Prologue II - The Hubris of Creation

The air cracks as the creature’s voice splits the night, echoing through stone and bone alike.

I freeze, every nerve strung tight as wire.

Its intent burns into me, wordless and absolute: climb, and you die.

My muscles spring into action as I propel myself up the railing, skipping every second balcony. Fear drives me just as much as the power whirling within.

I know it follows, yet I must look.

I glance down for a moment, watching as it scales three balconies effortlessly.

My every sense is locked on escape, and I feel Caelan’s panic emanating across the link, his silence purposeful as I climb.

I land on the penthouse balcony with a jolt, finally escaping the pursuit.

For a heartbeat, I expect it to arrive with me.

Only silence greets me.

I collapse in relief, taking a moment to stare into the signal lantern, its flickering pattern soothing, as light cascades across the edges of the expansive room.

It didn’t follow. I’ve made it to the penthouse. The Circuitors must have scared it off.

I can feel the strain consuming Caelan as his thoughts finally catch up, distracted and sluggish.

Good. Be careful, Evander.

I crack the balcony door.

Expensive scents and garish faux luxury overwhelm me; Luxis knows what an Alter wants. Senses overwhelmed. Comfort negotiable.

The penthouse halls and living room lack the glowing souls of any Overworlders.

The cleaners must start in the most expensive room first, just in case.

I probe with my senses, searching every adjoining room for a sign of the Circuitor’s presence, but find nothing. Powerful alters often conceal their innate thresholds from casual detection.

Thankfully, I hear a conversation in a nearby room.

I ease up on passive shifting, preserving energy as the sound fades.

I navigate through a maze of expensive furniture and decor, nerves retreating in a flood as I approach one of the many rooms.

A sign reads Deluxis Master Suite.

The conversation on the other side of the door comes in hushed tones.

“... here for answers, not another one of your perfectly timed excuses.”

“Funny, because every time I tell the truth, you suddenly forget how to…”

I grab the door handle, already pulling the hard drive from my neck.

Found them. Caelan, are you safe?

I’m as safe as I can be. Good luck.

Caelan sends a warm nudge down the link. I try to let it encourage me.

I swing the door wide as a harsh metallic scent washes over me.

The once-white room was drenched in crimson-black.

My ears rang with an overwhelming silence as I tried to process what lay before me. I tuned out the soap opera I’d mistaken for Circuitor chatter, instead focusing on the staccato dripping of blood from the ceiling.

My throat is tightening as I make out shapes in the gloom, my breath coming in quick, shallow hiccups.

Three Circuitors lay discarded over a chaise, missing limbs strewn across the room. Two more lay on the carpet, their bodies bent and deformed. Pieces of their illustrious armour litter the walls at all angles, cast off in mounting frustration by a creature determined to claim them, yet denied by its own warped form.

It stands there, bathing in the dim glow of the window.

The Hubris.

My hunter.

Its lithe humanoid body stands statuesque, locked in thought.

It stares at the mangled corpses, unblinking.

It’s almost human.

Its limbs are grotesque extensions, hands swinging well below the knees. Deeply sunken eyes are exacerbated by a gaunt face. A narrow neck leads to powerful shoulders and coils of taut muscle along its back. Its mouth has the slightest slit, as though it hadn’t torn open its own face in the lab mere hours ago.

It wears the Circuitor armour. It has mismatched pieces that hang from its lean frame, proudly displaying its trophies. A victory it won over the poor souls that stood in its way.

Evander? What’s happening?

The Circuitors are elite Alters.

Our baseline experiments showed few ways a Hubris could manage such destruction, let alone in the few minutes since I had lost it.

The creature remains in that killing calm.

It breathes slowly, twitching or jittering at the slightest noise.

I creep back, willing my feet to silence.

The Hubris remains mute, as if reflecting.

It lets forth a soft click, its mouth stretching and shows that precise slit it’s created.

No torn flesh, no fresh wounds.

There are two. The Circuitors are dead.

The creature's breathing stops as it clicks again, twitching its neck and clacking its few remaining teeth together.

A gurgling groan begins deep in its chest as it locks eyes with me.

The tiny pinpricks of light fade as it steps from the window’s edge. Its gaunt cheeks are raised high, the skin draped across a hideous attempt at a smile.

The groaning rises in pitch as it works its way up the creature's throat.

I’m sorry, Caelan.

It moves, blood flecked nails aiming for my throat.

The creature slows, nostrils flaring as it detects a surge of energy and the potential loss of its prey.

I am aflame with power.

Caelan reduces the scales, his consciousness fading for a moment as I shift further, tilting beyond my limits.

My accelerated thoughts lay a plan before me, and I strive to reach the balcony.

I turn so quickly that my arm brushes against the wall and turns the frame to splinters.

I take a step, feeling the carpet tear and the floor beneath shudder.

I’m approaching my threshold in milliseconds, so I pull back, slowing the shift.

The power coils back, reluctantly returning to my reserves as I continue my stride.

I’ve made it half a step when the chilling touch of the Hubris ensnares my throat.

I barely gasp before I’m launched into the centre of the room in an overarm throw.

I hit the floor beside a pair of dismembered legs lying by the couch. I’m slick with still warm blood. The groan has shifted to a high-pitched keening, as if the creature mocks my weakness.

It’s upon me before I can blink.

Instinct takes over, and I shield my internal organs and head, leaving my limbs to bear the brunt.

I’m not a fighter.

My panic begs me to flee, yet the best I can do is block and delay the inevitable.

If a Circuitor in full armour can’t defend themselves, there’s little hope for me.

I sense Caelan as a vague figment at the end of our link. He frantically asks something, but the ringing in my ears drowns it out.

The drumming of my heart beats a deafening rhythm as the Hubris stands above me.

I feel my body instinctively tilting the scales with little resistance from Caelan, self-preservation clawing at anything it can.

I brace, time slowing as my mind abruptly comes to terms with death.

I’m afforded a moment of reflection, something my subconscious finds morbidly amusing. Memories of research and purpose flash before me. Regret and loss ensnare me as I know we brought this monster into the world, and Caelan must continue our work alone.

The creature’s bare foot slams into my forearms and through to my chest.

I hear the deafening crunch, drowning out Caelan’s screams down the link.

I’m so sorry, Caelan.